Tomorrow's Another Day
by DamnI'mRandom
Summary: 'She's grateful for the warmth he provides, for the wry humour that somehow never seems to leave him.' Annabeth's thoughts as she and Percy trudge through Tartarus. Sorta dark. But sorta fluffy, too! Spoilers - yes, quite a lot. Percabeth.


**DISCLAIMER:** *Sobs* I own nothing. Why does Rick Riordan have to be so cruel?

x—x

Tartarus. The very mention of the place is enough to make anyone flinch with fear. Yet here they are. Two young demigods in the middle of nowhere, wounded, terrified. But they're no ordinary demigods.

Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson are two of the most battle-hardened demigods Camp Half-Blood has produced. The mission to save Annabeth from the clutches of Arachne had gone horribly wrong, for the spiderwoman's threads had entangled themselves around Annabeth's already-injured ankle and had dragged her down to the depths of the bottomless pit. Percy, being the brave, idiotic hero that he is, had jumped with her, not wanting to leave her alone there.

Or, at least, that's what Annabeth thinks.

The trireme with Hazel, Frank, Jason, Piper, Leo, Nico and Coach Hedge aboard it had sailed away into the sky, unable to rescue them in time. _The last blue sky she'd see in months._

Part of her is glad that Percy jumped with her, glad for the entertaining company that he is. The other, smaller part (the part that's becoming less insistent by the day) fears for him. If this was her fate, so be it, but he shouldn't have to suffer it, too.

They've spent a grand total of five days in Tartarus now, and no monster has attacked them so far. She's thankful for that. She's in no fit state to fight anyone/anything at the moment, and Percy is drained from that storm he'd created with Jason in the Coliseum, even after this time. Not even the small amount of nectar that they have and are taking every day seems to be helping. _Perhaps nectar can't heal what Arachne's done to us._

The path they're following seems endless. Hobbling along at a snail's pace (or possibly even slower, _thanks a lot, Arachne_), it seems as if they'll never find the Doors of Death in time to close them. And these are a few of the good thoughts she's had so far. On the way, they meet a few friendly skulls that seem to say, _yes, you're going the right way to die_. Percy shivers at such markers, drawing her closer to him. She's grateful for the warmth he provides, for the wry humour that somehow never seems to leave him, while all _she's_ capable of at best is a small, tentative smile.

She often asks him, 'Why did you do it? No-one would willingly leave comfort behind to fall into _Tartarus_, of all places.'

His stubborn reply? '_Comfort?_ When have we ever known that? Annabeth, I told you. We're not losing each other. Not after everything that we've been through together.' These statements are always followed by a dry, 'I'm resigned to my fate' kind of smile.

And she always kisses him for saying that. He's the only thing that's keeping her from going insane in this darkness.

The darkness is something that's gnawing at her courage like a dog at a bone, reducing it to a mere stub. It's an all-consuming feeling – the feeling that she's let everyone down. And this is the feeling that this darkness that surrounds her seems to be feeding upon.

She dwells on this as they trudge on, wondering what's going on in her boyfriend's mind. _Is he feeling the same as I am?_ Percy has always had that 'hero complex' – that constant urge to save everyone. He's always felt responsible for the safety of those he cared about, those he was made in charge of. He'd told her as much on the _Argo II_. Even when they'd first met, he'd felt responsible for her and Grover's safety – and they'd barely even known each other at the time.

A ghostly green light makes itself known. Black and green. Macbeth. _Witch's colours._ They remind her of the old witch stories her father used to tell her when she was a little girl, when they used to get along like oil and fire. They're healing that bridge now, trying to reclaim what was lost, but with her stuck in Tartarus, she has to say that _progress is slow._ She allows herself a smile at that.

'You okay?' Percy asks her presently, tugging at her hand.

'Yeah, kind of. I wasn't anticipating that my ankle would still be broken after five days, but, well, it's the best I can be.'

He squeezes her hand gently, encouraging her not to give up. She loves him when he's like this. She _loves_ him. She loves _him._ The thought blossoms in her heart, spreading warmth throughout her body. She looks up at him, taking in his handsome face, his slight 'troublemaker' smile, his wayward black hair, his _gorgeous_ sea-green eyes. She doesn't know how she could have resisted him for all these years, and her love for him is so strong sometimes that she's afraid of it. How could you love someone so much?

He's the optimist, she's the realist. That's what makes them such a good couple – they balance each other perfectly. He's the 'crazy' one, while she's slightly more 'sane' of the two.

'Annabeth.' He stops short, gripping her arm tightly. He draws Riptide with his other hand. He's developed a sort of sixth sense for danger, and he would know. He's been in enough situations to realise when something was wrong.

'What happened?' Sensing danger, she, too, draws her dagger. _The one that killed Luke._ She still feels a stab of grief and regret whenever she thinks of him.

The green light was shifting, slowly clearing for them to get a look at what lay ahead. They can see something large approaching. They move cautiously on, each step weighed. _Gods help us if it's a monster._

Her foot lands on something hard that makes a _crunching_ sound. She lifts it up. Thankfully, it's her good foot. The way she stepped onto the, erm, _whatever it is,_ her broken ankle wouldn't have been able to handle the pain.

Percy immediately looks down.

'It's a bone.' He sounds surprised.

Looking ahead, she sees a whole skeleton lying in front of them. She quickly identifies the animal. Hey, children of Athena are supposed to know this sort of stuff. You never know when identifying skeletons may come in handy.

'It's the skeleton of a _cow!_' she says. The thought of Hera's sacred animal's bones lying here in the dust makes her chuckle.

'What?' Percy asks, bemused.

She knows she isn't supposed to be thinking like this about a _goddess,_ but she can't help it. Hera has always been mean to her, why not have a little fun at her expense?

She's laughing really hard now, on the floor, unable to control her mirth. 'It's just… Hera's sacred animal… lying _here_! She must have a wider outreach than I imagined. Even in… Tartarus!' she explains between bursts of laughter.

'I swear, if I didn't know you, I'd have thought you've gone completely mad.' He shakes his head affectionately, looking at her in elation. She understands – this is the happiest she's been in, well, quite a long time.

'We'd better get going. We shouldn't linger in one place so much,' he warns, hauling her up.

'I know.' She stands and brushes the dust off her jeans. Her hand settles back in it's designated place: in Percy's hand.

It's a small step, she knows that. But for the first time in ages, she's allowed herself to _hope_. Even a small flicker can work wonders.

She's hungry for more. _I want optimism. _But this small ray of sunshine that's infiltrated her black rain cloud of despair is enough for her for today.

For more, there's always tomorrow.

**THE END**


End file.
